Friday, April 17, 2009

Dear Karma Godzz

Hey Karma,

I just wanted to remind you fucks that I am a fairly decent person. I keep to myself. I don't bother people. I care about the environment. I don't eat meat. I am loyal. I pick up after myself. I never get in anybody's way. Sure, sometimes I get a little hot-headed, but who doesn't?

Anyway, just wanted to remind you that you guys owe me one. So stop messing with my head. I just want to vociferate loudly off the rooftop. barbaric yawps and all.

1.) In my discombobulated state, I rush out the door this morning to run to my car to quickly grab my ciggies and gun it to my class. I find the Bayou Blue Yaris that I am accustomed to seeing George as - only to find to my dismay that there is something wrong with the lock. I spend an agonizing 5 minutes trying to get the door to open, run back to the house, try to wake up Cherlaine to help me open the car door, Cherlaine tells me to go away because she's sleeping and advises me to turn the key the other way. I tell her she is not being helpful and that I am in a very sensitive and fragile state of mind right now and for her to be an ass isn't helping matters. She answers by rolling over and putting the covers over her. I rush back to "George" only to find that it has a Fort Lewis sticker on it. I ask myself, when the hell did I go to Fort Lewis? SIMPLE. WRONG BAYOU BLUE YARIS.

2.) I nick myself shaving in the shower. In my entire life, I have never nicked myself - believe it or not, it's just something I don't do.

3.) I walk out the Wayward Home without my keys. Like the shaving incident (see #2), I have never left the door without keys in my entire life.





I do not understand.


Do a better job, Karma Godzz, I don't like these little random 'mishaps' that keep happening.

Your pal (but not for long if you keep this up),
Carolyn K. Huynh


P.S. Party at the Wayward Home Friday night. Everybody and their Mother is coming. the superbowl of partezz. I'm kidding. It's just going to be Cherlaine and Aubrey watching me consume a 40oz and cry myself to sleep. Think of the scene from "Little Women" where Jo March cuts off all her hair to get money to help out her family and Beth walks in and hears Jo crying and Jo is bawling the same words over and over: "MY HAIR.... MY HAIR..." Yeah, basically that.

1 comment:

dear eliza. said...

That party sounds like a fucking blast. How is it different than any other party you've thrown (minus the "my hair" shit)?